Random for a Tuesday

 On Saturday after music rehearsal at church, I was chatting with the music director. His son recently moved out and he was talking about the things he had left behind. One of these items was a five-pound jar of peanut butter.

Just the thought of that much peanut butter made me want to gag. Peanut Butter and I have had a rocky  relationship for years; and I'm sure it's due to the smell.

Don't get me wrong: when I was a kid I loved peanut butter. I would eat it right out of the jar. I would eat it on celery. I would eat peanut butter and bacon sandwiches for lunch in elementary school; and grilled peanut butter sandwiches from Junior High on up. And don't get me started on peanut butter cookies and Reese's cups.

But like the title of one of Joseph Heller's books: Something Happened. I can't even put my finger on exactly when it was (maybe when I got pregnant), but suddenly I couldn't even stand the thought. Maybe it was when I had a Reese's cup that was dry and grainy inside (we've all hit one of those after Halloween!). Regardless, I was done with peanut butter.

Until I wasn't. Slowly over the years, I integrated it back into my life but on a limited scale. Such as I love peanut butter blossom cookies (Kitty makes them the best!) and I did love Walmart's Great Value mini peanut butter cups. They were better and smoother than Reese's. But as always happens: the minute they found out I loved them, they took them off the  market. Haters! 

And for the past several years, in the winter I like to have homemade peanut butter crackers as a protein snack when I'm at work, with a lovely cup of tea or hot chocolate. It's only in the winter though. I would use Ritz crackers and make up a few, and I was happy. Until something strange happened this year...

I had my little jar of peanut butter with me, and my bag of 14 Ritz crackers to make seven peanut butter sandwich crackers. I opened the jar, took out my plastic knife, and took out my first cracker. 

Hmm...something seemed amiss with this Ritz cracker. And then I figured it out: the holes were too big. Generally when you have a cracker, you don't even notice the holes. But you couldn't miss these! I took out a few more and they all had these, what seemed to me, overly large holes. Seven to be exact. I put some peanut butter on one, and a little bit was able to ooze through the holes. I was out at that point and threw them all away. 

Maybe it was just me being weird (probably!) but I couldn't get past that. So my season of enjoying my morning snack has come to an end a little early. Hopefully next winter I won't come across any suspect crackers.

But on the bright side: VIENNETTA ICE CREAM DESSERTS ARE COMING BACK!!!!!!!! ** Instead of Breyers, Good Humor is bringing them back soon. I cannot wait!! I already have my bottle of Hershey's Dark Chocolate Syrup ready for when they finally reach my local supermarket. Yay!!!

**See "Whatever Happened To...? June 2020.

This One is for Emily

 Emily and I met and became best friends in the 7th grade. We may have looked like an unlikely pair, but we had the same sense of humor and way of thinking. We grounded each other and just loved being friends. There were six kids in her family; and she had a really cool older sister and a really hot middle brother that I always thought would someday see me as more than just Emily's friend. But alas: nope!

Anyhoo, we have remained really close even after all these years. Whenever she would come up to visit her family, we would always try to get together to catch up. Or on her drive up from the state where she lives,  she would call me and we would talk to make the miles go faster for her.

Emily was one of the first people I contacted, after family, when my sister died. She knew I would need to hear her voice. And then: just a few months later, she called me because she needed to hear my voice. Her little sister Michelle had been fighting cancer for years and Emily said to me, "I think it's time. I know the timing is horrible but could you help me plan my sister's funeral?" She thought I wouldn't want to do it because Robin's passing had been so recent, but I said, "Of course I will help you. Tell me what you need."

But like many times before, Michelle beat the odds and there was no funeral needed...

Until now. I woke up at 2:45 a.m.Wednesday morning to a group text from Emily and our other best friend Robbin. Michelle finally succumbed to cancer Monday, March 15th, 2021.  Due to covid and Michelle's weakened immune system, Emily hadn't seen her in exactly a year. She didn't want to take a chance with her sister's safety and no one can blame her. But of course she wishes she had seen her just one more time.

My sister Robin and her sister Michelle were friends. They had gone to school together and were the same age. Now Emily and I, sadly, share this similar loss. The only difference is that she got to have Michelle for five extra years.

Emily, I love you and wish that you and your family didn't have to go through this grief. Cherish all of the memories of Michelle. She truly was an amazing woman, a fighter and a warrior. She beat leukemia during her childhood and fought cancer with a vengeance as an adult. Yes you wish you had had more time, that covid hadn't been such a bitch to keep you from her, but God knew she was weary and wanted her home with Him, your mother and your father. So celebrate her life, not her death. And take comfort in knowing that her last breath on earth was her first breath in Heaven. 💔💖🙏

Love is on the Way

 A lot of things go through my mind while I am at physical therapy. Monday, while I was laying on the table having my arm stretched by my favorite therapist, the song "Love is on the Way" by Saigon Kick came over the speakers. This song immediately took me back...

It was 1990, and my sister Robin's favorite group of the moment was Extreme. Their songs weren't the first thing she liked: it was Nuno Bettencourt, the long-haired dreamy guitar player born in Portugal. Yes, that was her main attraction! Sure he was good looking but I liked his nerdy partner, Gary Cherone because that's who I am!

Anyhoo, we found out that they were coming to the Palace Theatre. Oh yeah: we had to go see them! So I got up very early one Saturday morning to make the trek to Albany to get the best tickets I could. Sitting on stage would have been preferable but no such tickets! However I did get 3rd row center so I knew Robin would pleased. 

The evening of the concert arrived and as luck would have it: I had an upper respiratory infection. I felt terrible: and also it was the coldest day of late winter. But if you think Robin would feel any sympathy you are wrong! So I loaded up my purse with kleenex and my medication and apple juice, bundled up for the below zero temperature and drove Robin the almost 50 miles to the Palace Theatre

I was a little nervous when I saw the sign saying security was checking bags. But thankfully they didn't bat an eye at my medical supplies. So we took our seats and waited for the magic to happen.

Robin was thrilled with the seats and couldn't wait for Nuno to appear on stage. However, she found out she had to sit through Saigon Kick first. This was a duo that only had one hit that I can recall. They sat on stools in the middle of the stage and began.

Apparently, it only took a few minutes for the guitar player to notice my sister. And I know he must have liked what he saw because during his big guitar riff he got up, came to the edge of the stage and began playing right to Robin! Her eyes got big and she looked at me, and I giggled. "Oh he likes you Sissy!" Yep: apparently love was on the way for him because he was mesmerized! Way to go Robin!

Shortly thereafter, Extreme hit the stage and the guitar player was forgotten. Robin's night was made when she got to touch Nuno's hand and also his long luxurious hair. I was just happy that my meds kicked in and I didn't have a coughing fit.

Alas, no dreams came true for me that night. But every time we heard Love is on the Way after that, I would say, "There's your husband Robin!"

And that's why I will always love that song: because of the memories of a good concert with Robin. I miss those days, and her. Sissy loves you ❤

A Quickie

Oh get your mind out of the gutter. The title just means it's a short post!

I was at physical therapy Monday and noticed this older guy for the first time. I noticed him because he had a full head of really healthy-looking white hair and had to be at least 6'4".  Judging by the exercises he was doing I knew he had a shoulder injury too. Solidarity!

Anyhoo, every so often I would sneak a peek at him and noticed he was checking me out too. Interesting...

So this morning at my early session he was there again too. He was wearing a white turtleneck and jeans. That was a good look for him. My therapist was his therapist too. The therapist went over to check on him; and that's when I noticed White Hair say something to him and then they both looked at me. As a woman I knew what that meant! I still got it! 😉

Now it was time for the torture / I mean stretching of my arm. As I was sitting on the table, White Hair came and sat on the table next to me. "Hi," he said, blue eyes twinkling above his mask. I responded in kind, waiting for his next words. "Is your name Rita?" Hmm, had the therapist given him my name? "Yes..." I said slowly. "Are you Clancy's sister?" I chuckled. "Depends on what you say next!" "I'm Larry." I drew a blank. "Marion's guy." "Oh my goodness: hi Larry!" 

Turns out White Hair was one of Clancy's good friends; and I've known Larry's girlfriend since high school. Now I'm pretty sure I've never met Larry, but he must have seen me at some point or other, although I'm sure I would have remembered meeting him.

We chatted for a bit and afterwards before he left. This encounter left me with three thoughts 1) what a small world it is;2) I'm seriously recognizable even with a mask on; and 3) Marion appears to be one lucky lady!

So I Went to the Gym...

 Not voluntarily! Brie's car is in the shop so I had to take her to teach her dance/ fitness class. And she figured since I would be at the gym anyway, why not come in and work out? Um...because I wanted to sit in the car and read?

No such luck. I reluctantly followed her inside, signed in and had my temperature checked, changed into a pair of slightly not big enough sneakers (couldn't find mine so wearing Brie's) and then she led me to the back room that had treadmills and ellipticals and recumbent bikes. I was glad the room was empty because it had been a long time since I'd been on a stationary bike. But I had a Harlequin and a bottle of water so I was ready!

The recumbent bike was one of those new-fangled ones with lots of settings and such, so Brie set it up for me. "And mom it even has a fan!" "Oh good, turn it on because you know I run warm anyway." She did and it felt great! Then she set up the speed and the timing and the cycle and God only knows what else and then pronounced me ready. I commenced to cycling, gave her the thumb's up and began my workout.

I pedaled and pedaled, feeling good about myself. I looked at the timer: hmm, only 56 seconds had gone by. I pedaled faster, looked at the timer: one minute 12 seconds. Ugh. So I decided to read to make the time go by faster. However, that didn't quite work out for me because it was tiresome holding the book. So I put that down, took a sip of water and wondered why I was warm. Oh, the fan had gone off, Seriously. So I turned that back on. The TV was on the Tennessee / Auburn basketball game so I decided to watch that. I noticed my pedaling was down to 20 rpms. Whatever. Good thing I was alone because I had no one to impress.

Of course, as soon as I thought this, a gentleman came through to use the restroom. "How ya doin'?" he called cheerfully. "Great!" I said, picking up speed and pedaling furiously so he would know I was a serious cyclist. I even managed to keep up that pace until he came out, said "have a nice day!" and left the room. I was doing 70 rpms but backed off of that as I huffed and puffed. Man, I hope he's the only one that came through! But he wasn't! Probably five guys came through so I was like screw it! I don't have to impress these gym rats! However, I have a secret competitive streak, even with myself, so I not only pedaled faster to impress anyone that came walking through. But also to actually burn some calories. And eureka: I did! 62 to be exact, by pedaling four miles in 30 minutes. Not exactly my all-time best (I used to go 10 - 15 miles in spin class) but pretty good for a lady with bad knees and a long hiatus. So good for me!

And this past Saturday I went back! I am a warrior! I set up that bike myself and vowed to keep my rpms to at least 50. I was doing well, until the cute guy from the front desk came in and got on the bike one down from me.  Hmm...out of the corner of my eye I noticed him pedaling at a pretty good clip. Well two can play at that game! So I immediately started a contest with him (of course he was unaware) and I matched my pedaling to his. However, I had been on the bike for almost 15 minutes and he was fresh (and young!), so I couldn't keep up his pace. BUT he also only stayed on for less than 15 minutes while I was almost at half an hour, so I won the contest! Of course he'll never know unless he reads this blog post, or we start dating ha ha.  But the important thing is: I WON!

And I really did win because this Saturday I did almost 5 miles in 35 minutes and burned 84 calories. I'll take it! I'm getting there, and it's better than sitting home doing nothing and hoping I don't gain my lost weight back.

And just for fun: the first Saturday I saw those big ropes that you see people on Biggest Loser and sports commercials use. So even with my bad left shoulder I still had to give those ropes a try. They are heavy but I was so pleased to be able to do even a small bit with my left arm. I was killing it!

So until Brie either a) gets her car fixed (ETA end of April due to a part shortage); or b) gets a new car, I will be at the the gym at least every Saturday. And who knows? I could even add a couple of extra days. Go me!

Is This Weird?

All of my life people have told me that I have a weird way of eating. I have no idea why they would think that. I have always eaten the way I've eaten. But after a discussion with Brie earlier (I'm sure she is still laughing) I said, "I'm going to blog about this later, aren't I?" to which she replied, "You have to!" So here it is.

My first memory of "unusual" eating was probably when I was around four. Marie made me a sandwich and cut it diagonally. I picked up one half, started with a corner, and nibbled 4 times. Then I chewed what was in my mouth. I ate that sandwich corner by corner, nibbling four times each time. Was there relevance to the number four? Nope. Just the beginning of weird eating. My father said I ate like a rabbit. He was right! Anything hand-held got four nibbles at a time. Seriously.

Smarties were my favorite candy as a kid. So of course I had to separate them and eat them by color. Green ones, orangy ones, yellow ones, white ones, purple ones and saving the best: the pink ones, for last. Same with M&Ms: separated by brown ones, green ones, yellow ones, red ones and the favorite: blue. Life savers, sweet tarts, candy necklaces and the like were the same: segregated and eaten with their own kind!

Let's see if I can explain how I would eat my favorite childhood cookie: the Oreo. Try to stay with me. I was never one of those dunk it in milk kids. Oh no: I had an entire system. I would take the cookie and "unscrew" it. Then I would take my bottom teeth and lift up the creme and eat it. Then the cookie side that was left that might have a tiny spot of creme, I would put in my mouth smooth side down and suck on it until it was soft. Then I would chew it. The side that had no hint of creme I would then put in my mouth word side down, suck on that until it was soft and then chew it. (now we know why I'm the slowest eater in the world)

But what got Brie going today was how I eat my lunch salads from my work cafeteria. Due to covid (isn't everything?) the lettuce is already in the plastic containers so you just choose  your lettuce. I am a Spring Mix kind of gal. Then when they take off the lid to add whatever I wish to add, I have them take approximately 2/5 of the salad out and put it on the lid. Then I have them add turkey, ham, grilled chicken, corn, egg, shredded cheese and walnuts in the middle. Add some salad dressing (today it was Italian). Then I have Nicole put the rest of the lettuce on top and add some more salad dressing. This way I have to work to get to the good stuff so it's a nice surprise when I get there 😉 Yep: there is a method to my eating madness! Now when the ladies see me coming they know to automatically take out the Spring Mix container and remove the lid.

I could go on and on, and on but I think you get the drift. However, there is also the other end of the spectrum which is foods I wouldn't touch with a 10-foot pole as a kid. Like spaghetti because it looked suspect. Like cheez doodles because they looked like caterpillars. Like hot dogs because the ends looked suspect. Pork because I never thought it was cooked long enough and you know what happens if you eat improperly cooked pork. Corn on the cob because a cousin was shucking the corn and there was a bug in it. Rice because it looked suspect. Raisins because once I saw some that had been sitting too long and they started to move. I'm telling you I ate pretty much nothing and subsisted on air when I was a child. However, if you've seen me you know I eat more than air now! Yes I got over my weird childhood food phobias. But not exactly my food OCD behavior. Some still linger...but I'm not going to tell you which ones!

Westward Ho!

 

On Saturday Keith came over to hang out for a bit. I’m never quite sure how to entertain him because we’ve never been close, but I strive to be a good hostess. I asked him if he wanted to watch something on TV. I said, “I know you watch those channels way up on cable. What do you watch on Saturdays?” He answered, “Well they have a western channel that I think starts at around 2000.” I turned to channel 2000 and then starting clicking up. And sure enough: westerns were on a particular channel. And I mean the westerns of our childhood: Bonanza, Rifleman, Gunsmoke and the like.

But what western was on at that time? Wagon Train! I started to laugh. He asked, “What’s so funny?” I said, “Do you remember when you, me and Carl were kids and we’d play Wagon Train? You and Carl got to sit on the foot boards with blankets over them like they were horses and ride, while I had to sit on the bed inside the wagon because I was a girl.” Oh how he laughed at that. “I remember!” he said. “And he and I had toy guns to protect the wagons.” Yes but I never got to have a gun or ride a foot-board horse. Apparently I wasn’t Annie Oakley!

This started a little flood of memories, but I had to ask him one question. “Do you remember our neighbor Kimberly and how she always wanted to play “Uncle Jeff and Uncle Stoney? Why were you Uncle Stoney?” He laughed again. “Stoney Burke was my favorite western character when I was a kid. He was in the rodeo.” Well of course he was!

We talked about some of the other shows, and how he always called home the Ponderosa, after the Bonanza spread. Brie popped in with, “I always wondered where that came from!”

He left after about an hour, and Brie and I went to lunch. While waiting for our food I had her laughing as I told her more about the “games” we used to play. “So my brothers always got to ride the horses while I had to sit in the ‘wagon’ with this blanket wrapped around my head like the virgin Mary about to give birth, holding this baby doll. Women folk never got to ride the horses!” I was very indignant as it all came back. “And when they were playing Uncle Jeff and Uncle Stoney, they wouldn’t let me on the swing set because they were ‘traveling’. Why couldn’t I swing on the regular swing? I didn’t want to be in the 4-seater with weird Kimberly and them.”

Brie was still giggling at the vision of me as the Virgin Mary. “I’m sure as the older brothers they felt they knew best when it came to your games, and lorded it over you.”

“That’s okay, I got back at them.”

“What did you do?”

“Well, one day we were in the bedroom and the boys were playing keep away with my doll. I finally managed to get my hand on the doll but it bounced off my hand and broke the bedroom window. I was terrified! So I told Keith and Carl that I would use magic to conjure up for them Mighty Mo army tanks if they wouldn’t tell mom and dad. They may have been wagon masters, but they weren’t brain trusts because they believed me. Then I went downstairs and told the parents that they broke the window so they’d get in trouble instead of me. And they did!”

Brie burst out laughing and so did I. That would teach them not to put baby in a corner, or Rita in the wagon!